


Retying The Knots

by BawdryWeirdsley



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Timelines, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, BDSM, Body Image, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Depression, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, First Time Bottoming, Forced Masturbation, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master/Pet, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot, Pseudo-Incest, Service Top, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Top Loki (Marvel), Total Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BawdryWeirdsley/pseuds/BawdryWeirdsley
Summary: They are always parted, and yet they always come back together. It's the same in all timelines- especially now that a vengeful Loki has the Tesseract and is travelling the multiverse fixing a happy ending for all of them- no matter what the cost to reality.Thor has given in to his despair after failing to stop Thanos, and what remains of Asgard is left without a King; Until a new Loki appears, sent to this timeline by the Loki who made off with the Infinity Stone. The relationship this Loki had with his own version of Thor is unlike anything Thor could have imagined, but perhaps giving in to Loki's will is the only chance he has to come back from the edge of oblivion.Tags will be added as the story progresses.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 199





	1. The Stranger

The Stranger arrives in New Asgard at Twilight. The worn stone of the small cottages is mellowed by the setting sun as it sinks beneath the horizon. The dwellings look like pebbles strewn at the edge of the sea by some Titan, long dead. Perhaps momentous things occurred here once; Legends were born and battles fought, and glories heralded, but no more. Even the sea is becalmed, a pale lavender mirror that reflects the stars above. Forgotten country, this, abandoned by the Gods who birthed it, so very different from the Asgard that was. 

If the Stranger is surprised by New Asgard- Its smallness, the meanness of the architecture compared to all that ostentatious, soaring gold, he doesn’t show it. He takes down the hood of his black travelling cape and frowns up to the top of the hill. The largest house has a neglected look to it. The windows are dark, the roses that cover the frontage run wild. He senses that the one he’s looking for is not there, but it’s not like he’s so very difficult to find. By now The Stranger has a sense of him. Could find him blind in the dead of night. Could find him if he lay ten fathoms beneath the waters of the bay, or entombed miles deep beneath the rocky soil. 

The Other had warned him that the one he seeks will be different to the one he knew, and he has girded himself against it as best he can.

Is he frightened? Does his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing that face again? Does it fill him with as much terror as it does longing to know that the man he might find here could be just different enough to the one lost to destroy him utterly? He’d never show it, any more than he’d show his surprise to see the jewel of an ancient Empire reduced to a few hundred souls scratching a living on a inconsequential coastline of a barely civilised planet like this one.

The one he seeks is in a small, cramped cottage near the harbor. Although The Stranger is not exactly thrilled by the stink of the fishing nets and the seaweed that clings to the pilings as the tide goes out, he’s more repulsed still by the smell that spills through the open window of the sad little room.

Unwashed flesh, greasy hair, spilled ale turned sweet and sickly, stale food- all of it combined spells a single word: _Despair_.

* * *

Thor isn’t entirely surprised when the figure in black slips in through his window. Reality is negotiable now, more than ever, no Infinity Stone needed. Never quite sober, never quite sane, it’s been a long time since he made the effort to discern the real from the unreal.

It’s something of a surprise when the figure speaks; They don’t usually speak to him, these ghosts he conjures out of his flagon.

“Brother.”

“I don’t have a brother. My brother is dead.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. “Since when has that stopped any of our family interfering in each other’s business?” 

Thor lifts his beer bottle. “Fair point. But _you’re_ not really here.”

“Not the first time you’ve accused me of that. You’ve been wrong before.”

Thor laughs. “Spare me ‘before.’”

How tempting it is to return to _before_. There’s not much left in him that wants to go on living, but there must be a spark, just the smallest, dying ember. If there wasn’t he’d let what’s left of himself go and dwell in the _before_ entirely. This vision of Loki looks so _real._ He could almost swear he can smell him, that scent peculiar to Loki- something bright and deadly and compelling, like a poison you can’t help but drink.

“Begone from here,” he says. “The past is lost to me.”

“And the future?”

“Short, if I’m lucky.”

Loki tuts. “No past. No future. What is there?”

Thor takes a slug from his beer, and taps the bottle against his lips. “This. Now leave me in peace.”

Loki shrugs. “If you wish it, but it’s a waste of our time. I’ll only come back.”

He’s still capable of pain. No amount of alcohol can numb it entirely. 

“No, Brother, you won’t. You’re gone. Everything’s gone. _Half_.” He laughs again. “That bastard took more than half. He took everything, and perhaps the rest of them are content to pretend otherwise, but not me. You always accused me of being blind. Foolish. But I’ve learned, Loki. I’ll not be fooled again. There’s nothing left for me.”

“That’s why you- King of Asgard- live in this hovel?”

How chuckles. “A fit abode for a beggar King.”

Loki sniffs. “So melodramatic. They gave you a house atop the hill. Why don’t you live there?”

“That’s the King’s house.”

“And are you not the King?”

Thor laughs. “King? What on Asgard makes you think I deserve to be King?”

Loki sits down on the end of his bed. Perhaps it’s the vertigo his deeper dives into the bottle bring on, because he can swear he feels the bed sink under the phantom’s weight.

“You’ve never deserved half the things you were given, why start caring now?”

Thor frowns. “Fair point. Alright; I don’t deserve to live above the town when I’ve brought them so low in my failure. That’s one reason. And the second is that I don’t want to be alone. My friends....I don’t deserve them either, but they help me to forget.”

“So,” says Loki. “There’s still some part of you that cares about _something_. That’s a relief.”

Thor drains his bottle and gropes for another. “This is the first time one of my hallucinations has spoken with me. I can’t say I’m enjoying it. Or is this a dream?”

“It’s neither,” says Loki. “Can you walk? No, don’t answer I see that you can’t. Give me your hand, brother.”

Thor shuts his eyes. _When I open them I’ll be awake, and he’ll be gone, as always_. 

Part of him doesn’t want to wake up. To go through the loss all over again; To be forced to go on living at all.

“I said give me your hand. I’m not used to asking twice.”

But the voice sounds so very real. He can almost fancy he feels Loki’s breath on his ear, and it makes him shiver.

“Can’t you leave me in peace?”

“Never could.”

His eyes fly open as the beer bottle is plucked from his hand. _A ghost couldn’t do that._ But before he can react, strong fingers are closing around his own, and the room tilts and is gone.

* * *

Thor only realises where they are because of the view from the narrow window. The mossy roofs of New Asgard lie below them, and the harbor beyond it, cast into fog by the grimy glass. He stares around him at a gloomy bathroom. An old house by Midgardian standards with cool stone floors of greenish grey slate, which might be beautiful were they not furred with dust.

Loki stares about him too. “This whole place needs a good cleaning. I suppose you’ve no servants?”

Thor shakes his head, too dumbfounded to say anything. It’s a dream, he decides. An extraordinarily vivid one, but still a dream.

“Hmm. Well, once you’re better we have your first task. You need discipline, brother. But more than that, a bath.”

They both stare at the tub, deep and long, standing on four lion feet. Like everything else in this room it would be rather grand if not veiled in cobwebs and dust.

“No point putting you in that as it is,” says Loki. “You’d come out filthier than you are now, if such a thing is possible.”

He waves his hand and the cobwebs and dust peel back like a soft curtain. The taps squeal as Loki turns them, and the pipes bang and groan, but hot water flows out.

All at once it’s too much for Thor. Truthfully it’s too _real_. He’s never had a dream this vivid before. The way the light of the rising moon silvers the stone, the feel of the cool slate floor beneath his feet. The smell of rusty water, and worst of all the smell of Loki- that lost, familiar scent. His voice, just as he remembers, exasperation masking the depths beneath.

“I’d like to wake up now,” he says, softly.

Loki looks at him, brow furrowed. “ _Sober_ up, you mean. I know you always liked a drink, but you smell as if you’ve been soaking in it for months. It’s seeping out of your pores. Bath. Now.”

He’s not used to this- the note of command in his brother’s tone. Well, not directed at him, anyway.

_It’s a dream. Why not go along with it, and with any luck you won’t remember it when you wake_. All the same he hesitates.

“What is it?”

“I....ah, you don’t need to watch me.”

Something like a smile flits over Loki’s face. “Perhaps not. But I’m not taking the risk with you this drunk. I didn’t travel so far to...to lose you again.” He turns away before Thor can see the expression on his face.

“What do you mean ‘again?”

“Bathe.” Loki’s voice is steady again. “ _Now,_ please. I’ve traveled far to get here and I find that there’s so much more work here than I anticipated.”

Thor lifts the hem of his sweater doubtfully. The wool is greasy and even in the darkness he can see the dried map of stains that covers it. Even in a dream he’s suddenly ashamed to be seen like this by Loki, who looks so cool and collected in his long black cape.

“It’s alright. We’ll conjure you better clothes, brother.”

His voice is gentle. How often has Thor heard Loki _gentle_ in recent years?

_Well, it’s not really so surprising, is it? This is a dream after all. Why not let him be the Loki he was as a young man, before his bitterness and his rage twisted him._

It was only in the moment of his death that Loki had finished mending all that was broken between them, and so their peace had been stolen from him. He’d lost the chance for him to say all that he longed to. The truly surprising thing is that it’s taken him so long to dream that Loki has returned.

“Thor?”

Thor glances at Loki. He’s right around the age he was when he died. _And so real._

“Clothes.”

“I can’t. Not with you watching.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You look a little different to the Thor that I’m used to, but handsome enough if it’s flattery you’re after.”

“I don’t seek flattery,” says Thor, feeling his temper kindle. _Angry- I remember what that feels like. I was less successful than drowning my emotions than I thought_.

“I just can’t undress with you watching me, dream or not.”

“It’s not a dream,” Loki says. “And I don’t understand. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.”

Thor chuckles. “I promise, you’ve never seen me naked.”

Loki frowns. “Never?”

“No.”

“Were you and the Loki of your universe never lovers?”

Thor groans. “I’d _really_ like to wake up now.”

“You truly weren’t?”

“We truly weren’t.”

Loki mutters a curse. “That’s so typical of...of _me_. I can’t believe I wouldn’t tell me that!” He puts his hands to his temple and brushes back his hair. The gesture of frustration is so familiar that Thor has to smile. “Parallel universes he said,” Loki sneers. “Different timelines. You can just go there and find him. I’m fixing it for all of us. So much for ‘fixing.’”

“You know it’s a relief in a way,” Thor says.

“What is?” Loki snaps.

“What you just said. Everything else is so real, but I _know_ that it’s a dream now.”

“How?”

Thor laughs. “Us? Lovers? You barely tolerated me while you lived. You tried to kill me, oh, many times. We quarreled and fought and we were parted...”

“Yes, yes, and came back together, and I could never think of anything but you, and you never anything but me.” Loki finishes. “That’s the way it is for all of us.”

“All of us?” asks Thor, bewildered. 

“All the Lokis and all the Thors in all the timelines in the multiverse. I don’t know how many there are to begin with, but there are certainly more of them now with _him_ on his travels.” He smirks. “I might be a double-crossing bastard, but you have to admire my determination.”

The conversation is interrupted by the patter of water on tile as the tub overflows.

“Well I suppose the floor’s cleaner,” Loki says wearily as he leans over to turn the taps off. “I can see we’re going to have to start at the very beginning. I was not prepared for this. But one thing you need to know is that I don’t ask twice, and especially not _more_ than twice. Get in, brother. You need to sleep and to heal, but first you need to bathe.” He puts a hand on Thor’s arm. “If this truly is a dream then it doesn’t matter anyway, so why not do as I ask?”

He can feel the weight of Loki’s palm through his sweater, and although he knows it can’t be real the gentle, sympathetic touch breaks him entirely. 

_Sympathy_. Of course they’ve all offered him that, but everyone on this planet has paid the price of his failure, and he’d no more accept their sympathy than he would this house, or the title of King of the realm he destroyed when he failed to stop Thanos. But from Loki it’s different. They might not be brothers in the true sense, but there’s no one he knows better, no one he could show his true weaknesses to like Loki- for hasn’t he always known them all?

The black-clad figure stiffens when Thor slips his arms around him, but after a beat he relaxes, pulling Thor close to him.

“It feels good to be near to you again, even in a dream. In reality you’d never have allowed this, but you feel real to me now.”

“Oh?” Loki says. “I think you’d be surprised at the things I allow.”

“This is the first time I’ve dreamed of you since I lost you.”

“I keep telling you, it isn’t a dream.” Loki sighs. “It’s impossible to explain with you drunk, and unfair besides. If you don’t want to bathe, at least sleep.”

_If I fall asleep in my dream, I’ll wake up in reality. That’s how dreams work, do they not?_

And he doesn’t want to. To go back to his solitude seems unbearable. 

“If I bathe, will you stay with me?”

Loki nods. “I already told you I would.”

“Very well.”

He feels bashful as he strips off his clothing. All of it is either too big or too small and none of it is clean. His body too has changed so much, but Loki doesn’t seem to mind it; he studies Thor with no hint of embarrassment. When he brings his hands up to cover himself, Loki says sharply: “Don’t.”

Thor’s hands drop to his sides again. Abdicated or not it’s strange to be issued commands like this by Loki of all people, but oddly comforting too. How long has he carried the burden of his responsibilities? How luxurious would it be to set them down and have the voice of a single, beloved other be the only voice he need listen to?

Loki is looking at him shrewdly. “Your thoughts...” he starts, then shakes his head.

“What about my thoughts?” I suppose they must be open to you, seeing that you’re both a magician and yet another one of my thoughts besides. You know I thought of it sometimes; What it would have been like if I’d yielded to you. Given you the throne. How wicked you’d have been as King. And how magnificent. How I’d have worshipped you. How free I would have been in my slavery to your will.” He sighs. “Did you ever guess it, I wonder? What a peculiar dream this is.”

Loki’s expression isn’t one he’s used to seeing. When he speaks his voice is low, and more serious than Thor’s used to. 

“We’ll talk when you’re sober. Get in, brother, the water grows cold.”

Thor has to admit that the hot water feels good. Loki sits on the side of the tub, not seeming to care how wet his robes become.

“Your hair...it suits you well, brother, but it’s beyond washing I fear. And this beard must go too. Perhaps I’ll have you grow it long again afterwards?”

“Mmm, whatever you wish.” If only there could be an afterwards. Soon he’ll wake up, or the dream will shift into terror as all his dreams do of late. For now though he means to revel in it. 

“I’m going to cut your hair,” says Loki. “I’ll be careful.”

Thor’s eyes have drifted closed, but now he opens them, glancing at the short blade in Loki’s hand. 

“This is where you stab me?”

Loki laughs. “A habit of mine in all timelines, it seems. But no, if I hurt you it will be because I mean to, and I don’t mean to right now. You need care, not punishment to begin with. You’ve punished yourself enough by the looks of it.”

Thor doesn’t have anything to say to this. An alarming bubble of emotion threatens to rise up within him, and he only wrestles it back down with some effort.

“It will have to come out eventually,” says Loki, softly. “But not yet. Now be still, relax. Let me do what I can about this.”

Thor starts a little as Loki’s cool fingers run over his temples. His voice is low and soothing, and Thor has seldom heard it like this outside of his spellcasting.

“You know my Thor- the Thor of my own timeline-used to wear his hair long just like yours is, if not as tangled. I’d have him tie it up each day when we were out amongst the people, but when we returned to our rooms I’d have him take it down for me. Only I saw him that way. It was mine alone. He was mine alone.” He sighs. “You’re not him, and yet you are. How peculiar all of this is.”

His fingers are rubbing now, firm, soothing little circles on Thor’s scalp. Thor closes his eyes again, even though he knows he risks waking if he drifts off here. How long since he’s felt like this? This peace.

“I don’t deserve it,” he mutters.

Loki’s fingers only stop for a second. “I’ll be the judge of what you deserve. If we decide that I’m to stay with you.”

“Please stay with me, please, Loki...”

“Hush. Be silent for now, and be still.”

The hot water and the distant sound of the ocean is so soothing that he obeys. Loki’s fingers work deftly and quickly lifting the matted clumps of hair, the small silver blade flashing as the tangled locks are lifted away and dropped carelessly to the floor. 

“Better?” Loki asks, finally.

“Aye, it is.”

_A shame that it’s a dream._ His head feels light and cool, and clean. As though some of his burdens have been cut away with the hair. The beard takes a little longer. Loki’s face is very close to his own as he works, and Thor loses himself in the intensity of those cold blue eyes, never flinching even as the wickedly sharp blade whispers against his throat.

“There,” Loki says finally. He makes no move to pull away. His face is only inches from Loki’s; He can feel his breath on his own lips. _If I leaned forward now...it’s only a dream- a dream I’ve had before, besides._

For he’s kissed Loki in his dreams long ago. Held him and taken him and all else that’s forbidden by the trick of their adoptive parentage. But Loki blinks as if breaking free of some spell, and leans back.

“Finish washing yourself,” he says, “And then sleep. There will be much to do tomorrow.”

He’s still in the room but his tone is so final that Thor doesn’t dare disobey. The soap is old and dry, but he manages to get a lather out of it, and after he’s done scrubbing himself he feels half sober for the first time in months.

The water is dismayingly grimy, and he’s all too eager to climb out of the tub, and to follow Loki out of the bathroom.

The air in the bedroom is hot and stale, but the sheets aren’t too bad- certainly cleaner than those on the sofabed he sleeps on at Korg’s cottage.

“Get in,” Loki says. 

“If I sleep, then I’ll wake up.”

“That’s usually how sleeping works.” Loki yawns. “If you won’t I will.”

“How about we both do?”

Loki frowns. “You’re still drunk.”

“I’ve been drunk for a long time, brother.”

“So I can tell. But...” Loki chews a nail. “I lost you. And now I have a chance of getting you back. We both have a chance of finding each other again. If I share a bed with you, I don’t know that I’ll be able to stop myself from taking what I need.”

“I don’t understand,” Thor says.

“You do. You just don’t know that you do. You’re drunk and you’re grieving and you think this is a dream. You always were a fool.”

He says this last so fondly that Thor can’t be offended.

“The other Thor- the other you- gave himself to me in love. I’d not ask less from you, so you’ll sleep alone for the time being.”

“But...”

Thor?” 

It’s Loki’s tone that quiets him, cutting through his exhaustion and his confusion.

“Do as I tell you.”

And it’s easy. Easier than anything has been in a long time. Can one feel tired in a dream? Well, he certainly does. The bed is impossible to resist, especially when Loki stoops and lays a hand on his head, petting and soothing.

“Will you stay with me?” Thor asks. “Until I wake up?”

“Until you sleep,” Loki says. He sighs. “I never imagined things would be this complicated.”

“They always were when you and I were together,” Thor says.

Loki laughs. “True. Now sleep.”

And he does, tumbling into a long and dreamless sleep. When he wakes, it’s to the sound of a loud rapping on the door.

He sits up, half-blinded by the sunlight, blinking around him. He’s still there- in the large, dusty bedroom in the house on the top of the hill, and even as his hands fly up to his freshly shorn head, the bedroom door opens and _Loki_ leans through it.

“Brother- you’re awake. I believe we have guests.”


	2. Peace Pacts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for body image issues.

The main room is large, but it feels unbearably crowded to Thor. They sit on dusty sofas, or lean against cobwebby walls, filling the house high on the cliff with angry voices. Valkyrie talks fast and loud, her hand close to her hip where her magical blade is concealed, her face dark with suspicion. What remains of Asgard’s high council are no less suspicious. They were suspicious of Loki in life, and his coming back from the dead yet again does not seem to have improved their opinion of his trustworthiness.

Thor lets the talks wash over him for the most part. All he has eyes for is Loki.

_ Alive. Truly alive, and come back to me. _

It’s a miracle so great that he can’t trust in it, and so he simply stares at his brother, trying to drink him in, to store him up for the inevitable time when he truly wakes and discovers that all of this is a vivid dream or delusion.

Loki appears calm, but Thor can tell from the way he plucks at his sleeves and chews at his lip that he’s as tense- and thus as dangerous- as Valkyrie. He knows he ought to step in- to be calm and wise, to talk them all down from the edge of whatever brawl is brewing, and yet here he sits on the couch next to Loki, transfixed.

The delicate bones shift beneath the pale skin as Loki’s hands clench. His pulse thrums below his jaw. The blue eyes harden as Valkyrie continues. 

He’d forgotten how blue Loki’s eyes are, how easy to become lost in.

“Thor?”

He starts as Loki places a hand on his own. “Tell her you’ll speak with them when the time comes. You’re one of them. They’ll trust you.”

“Speak with who?”

“Romanov. Whatever’s left of Shield. Whoever else knows  _ he’s _ back- if it’s even him,” Valkyrie says. She glances at Thor, and he can see pity and impatience warring there in her eyes. 

“Is it really him? You’d know better than anyone.”

The question startles him.  _ What have they seen? Did they all guess what I felt for him? Were all the lies I told to myself for nothing? _

“Well, brother,” Loki says softly. “What do you think? Is it really me?”

He takes Thor’s hand. Unthinkable that he’d do that in front of all these people if what he says is true, and yet his touch is lighting up parts of Thor’s abused and shattered mind that haven’t been active in months. Loki runs a thumb over his knuckles and Thor feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“You want it to be true,” says Valkyrie, but it doesn’t mean that it is.”

“Aye, says Thor slowly. “I can see the wisdom in that. And yet...” He lifts his own hand touches his fingers softly to Loki’s face. His brother looks startled for a second, a flush of color appearing on his cheeks.  _ He’d never have allowed me to touch him like this before. _

And yet it is Loki. He knows it on a level that’s soul deep. The place within him where the thunder dwells recognises Loki’s seidr and calls out to it.

“It’s him,” he says finally. “I don’t understand how it’s him, yet it is.”

Valkyrie shakes her head. “I don’t understand either. We watched Loki die. You’re saying you’re from some other universe?”

“Another timeline,” says Loki. He moves Thor’s hand gently back to his lap, but he doesn’t let go of his fingers, and his touch grounds Thor somehow.

“And then we’re supposed to believe there was yet  _ another _ Loki who sent you here?” says Valkyrie.

“Three Lokis,” says Korg, wonderingly. “That’s almost too many Lokis.”

“There are many more than three of any of us,” says Loki. “But yes.”

“Why did he send you?” demands Valkyrie.

Loki shoots Thor a look, then licks his lips. “There’s only so much I can say.”

Valkyrie makes a sceptical noise.

“If I tell you too much I could doom your world. Suffice to say that in one timeline a version of myself was never captured after the battle of New York. He escaped with the Tesseract- that is to say the Space Stone.”

“Escaped to do what?” asks Valkyrie.

“Kill Thor,” says Loki, a slight smile curving his lips. He gives Thor’s hand a squeeze. “Sorry, but not all of us have found a better way of getting your attention.”

“See?” Valkyrie bursts out. “He admits why he’s here!” She no longer looks like a fishing boat captain, or even a Valkyrie. It’s pure Scrapper 142 that shows in the jut of her chin and her bunched fists.

“He is not me,” Loki says. “Merely a version of me. Our paths diverged long ago. And he discovered something as he traveled the multiverse with his stolen treasure- that in every universe where Thor and I were divided, we perished. And in every universe where we were...ah... _ united _ , we triumphed. The power of Loki and the power of Thor are symbiotic from a magical point of view. We each of us need the other to survive. And so instead of killing the Thor of every universe as he had planned to do he pledged himself to uniting us. To ensure himself the power he thought he deserved in every manifestation of his existence.”

“So he went from trying to kill Thor to trying to form an alliance with him?” asks Valkyrie, flatly.

“Specifically, he’s trying to pair all of us who have lost our, ah, counterpart with another. Strengthening our power in every universe.”

“Quite a change of plan.”

Loki shrugs.”I’ve been known to change my mind. A habit of mine, along with the slaughter and mayhem. He soon saw that if he was to have the power he deserved there was but one path. One that turned out to be more pleasurable than he’d anticipated.”

He gives Thor’s fingers another squeeze as he says this, and now it’s Thor’s turn to blush. His mind grasps at the things they spoke of last night.

_ You were never lovers? _

No one else in the room could guess at the subtext of Loki’s words, and yet Thor knows in an instant what he means.  _ In every universe where we were united _ ....

“So a Loki has access to one of the most powerful artifacts in existence and he’s using it to do good?” Valkyrie asks.

“It isn’t good,” Jalmyr rumbles. He’s one of the old guard- an advisor to Odin back in the day. “Interfering with the threads of fate in this way could be disastrous for all of existence. An insane, selfish plan!”

“Well that sounds more like Loki,” says Valkyrie. “So the Thor of your universe is dead?”

Loki pauses. 

“Valkyrie,” Thor says.

She gives him an incredulous look. “What?”

“Have a care. He’s my brother. He has suffered a loss, as we all have.”

Valkyrie shakes her head, disgusted, but says no more.

“What happened to him?” Thor asks. 

Loki is silent a second. “I’ll tell you of it in private.”

“No,” says Jalmyr. “You ought to tell us now. I believe your story, for what it’s worth, but we must have the whole of it before we come to any decision.”

He feels Loki stiffen, and sees the anger behind his eyes.

“The only one I owe an explanation to is our King,” Loki says. “But I’ll provide one, should he wish it.”

It takes Thor a second to realise that Loki’s speaking of himself.

“I’m not King.”

There’s a murmur of disagreement at this.

“I’m not. I’m not worthy.”

“You think not?” asks Loki. “We must correct that, but later.” He turns back to the room. “My Universe was very different from your own- the other showed me both his own history and yours. I knew the truth of my Jotun lineage from birth. Thor never ventured to Midgard at all. Instead he ruled Asgard and I aided him as his magician. When Odin died, Hela took power. None could defeat her, and my Brother and I were forced to yield to her to save our people. After a long imprisonment we managed to persuade her that we would bend to her will. She needed us at that point- say what you will about Asgardians but they are not easily defeated. Thor came up with a plan to overthrow her rule, but it was a plot born of desperation, and could never work. I saw a way that we might save ourselves if we fled without telling anyone. But Thor, well he was set on saving everyone, and so he...so he died.”

He glances up at Thor. “He was  _ always _ worthy. It was his undoing, but also his strength. I should have stayed at his side no matter how futile it appeared. I should have made peace with him. We were each other’s strength.”

Thor closes his eyes. Would it have changed things if he had made peace with Loki sooner? He thinks of all the  _ almosts, _ all the times he had all but worked up the courage to confess to Loki what he really meant to him. So many small acts of cowardice and failure that cost him all.

“This is a second chance, for both of us.” Loki says. “I know it seems improbable...”

Valkyrie snorts.

“And yet it’s the truth.”

“So what is your plan?” Jalmyr asks. “What do you mean to do here?”

“To serve my King as I always have,” says Loki.

“Okay, that does not sound like you,” says Valkyrie.

Loki shrugs. “I wasn’t aware we were intimate in this universe that you know me so well.”

“I know you well enough to know you always look out for yourself, first.”

“As I’m doing in helping Thor. Our fates are tied together. Someone has to take him in hand. He’s half-dead. Did none of you think to help him?”

“We’ve been trying!” says Valkyrie. “He’s...”

“I’m broken,” says Thor. It’s shameful to be discussed like this, but he supposes he’s earned it. “I gave up long ago. The fault is no one’s but my own.”

“You gave up when he died,” Loki says. “I understand. I’m not him exactly. Our lives were very different, and yet I am Loki of Asgard, and you are Thor Odinsson and we grew side by side on the same branch of Yggdrasil, and can only flourish together. When I lost you, part of me- the best part, perhaps- died too. And I’d die again if it meant I could save you. Do you understand me?”

Thor, who has died over and over in his dreams to see Loki spared can only nod.

“And how’re you going to save him?” Valkyrie asks. 

Loki gives her a narrow look. “That’s between the two of us- for now.”

Valkyrie shakes her head. “Nah, not buying it. Thor, listen to me, you can’t trust him.”

All at once everyone is talking, the voices merging into an ebb and flow of sound like an ocean that threatens to drown him. White sparks pop behind his eyes and the room seems to give a great lurch. He feels as though he’s choking, that whatever remains of his reason is threatening to shatter for good...And then Loki’s arms are around him. He can’t see him, but he can feel him, the cool silk of his clothing, his arms wrapping around Thor’s chest. His speaks softly, but his voice drowns out the others. 

“Hush, Brother. Don’t fret. You are unwell and in need of good food and rest. We should have seen to that first.”

“Loki, I don’t know where I am.”

In your home. Our home, if you allow me to stay. You’re safe, Thor.”

“No. We’re not safe. We lost. We lost everything. I failed.”

“What’s lost can be restored. Am I not proof of it? And you needn’t worry about any of it now. Just follow my voice. Follow it back.”

And miraculously he can. The roar of arguing voices resolves itself back into intelligible words. The fog rolls of his panic rolls back to reveal the dusty room.

“Good. You did well.”

He doesn’t know why Loki’s praise should fill him with such gratitude.

_ Weak. It’s because you’re weak _ . Maybe so, but it revives him. Someone else is in charge here, it doesn’t have to be him, and it’s  _ good _ .

Loki raises his voice. “As you see, my brother is unwell. He needs rest, and medicine and to heal from his sickness.”

“What sickness?” asks Valkyrie. 

“The soul-deep sickness that only one who knows the seidr- and who knows Thor- can cure. He’ll perish without me. I may be a liar, but you’re clever enough to see the truth in it. 

Valkyrie glances at Jalmyr, and the others.

“If you surrender your weapons...”

“You ought to know how futile that request is to one with my powers. I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me.”

“Shield won’t, even if we do.”

“I’ll speak to this Shield when they arrive. The other Loki showed me how it is here- the parts that suited him at least. But for now I’ll swear you a heart-oath. The Valkyries lived by such pacts, did they not?”

“You are not a Valkyrie.”

“But I’m a child of the seidr. The pact would be unbreakable.”

Thor is losing the thread of the conversation once again. His head pounds miserably and his stomach feels tight and sour. 

“Would someone mind putting my brother back in his bed?” Loki asks. “He needs rest.”

Korg nods, “Yeah, nah, I got it.”

He feels weaker than ever, being half-carried out of the room while Asgard’s affairs are arranged without him, but it’s all he can do to stagger back up the stairs in Kong’s arms.

“This is really happening?” He asks as he rolls back onto the mattress.

“Yup. Bit of a weird one, eh? We’ll bring your stuff up from the cottage.”

“Don’t. I have everything I need here.”

For what else is there but Loki? If he’s to be redeemed, there’s only one who can do it. His brother is a skillful liar, but Thor feels the truth of his words just as Valkyrie clearly does, like them or not.

* * *

It would be untrue to say that Loki isn’t dismayed at what his double has bequeathed him. Asgard, like her King has given up. Every day he watches men and women who were once scholars and warriors try to scratch a living from the sea. The few fisherfolk among them have already drifted further afield, making alliances with Midgardian fleets. If nothing is done, what’s left of Asgard will break apart on this coastline, like a foundering ship.

Asgard needs her King, and the King needs his Master. Although this Thor is different from the one he lost, Loki hopes that the same handling will soothe and focus him. To be truly powerful, lightning must be channeled after all.

The first three days Thor keeps to his room. Loki does not have to order him to stay there- in fact the true challenge is likely to be persuading him to venture beyond these walls. That however is in the future. For now, Thor rests, free of choice whether he understands it yet or not, and so free of worry. His body is poisoned with poor Midgardian food and alcohol, and his mind with the same, plus a toxic draught of grief. 

Loki has simple meals sent up from the village- already they obey him. It’s a comfort to most them to be commanded by an Odinsson once more. And although Valkyrie distrusts him she has allowed a grudging truce after they swore their peace pact. 

When Thor sleeps, he travels the coastline. Barbaric country, this but not without its own type of hedge magic. The herbs that he gathers from the rocky cliffs join the supplies he fled with to create potions to help purge the poison from Thor’s body. He drinks them without comment, obedient as a child. They speak little. Mostly Thor just  _ looks _ at him, as if he might never stop given the choice. Loki knows how he feels.

On the fourth day he wakes Thor as the sun comes up. His colour is better and the blue eyes are clear. His hair is growing back in, golden as ever, and Loki stoops to run a hand through the bristles without thinking about it. Thor makes no move to stop him, and it’s tempting to trace his fingers down that strong jaw, to climb on top of him and claim what’s his, but it is not yet time.

But nor is it time to be timid. A man as strong as Thor feels most comfortable with a strong master.

“Today you clean this house from top to bottom,” Loki says. He sets the plate of bread and fruit down on Thor’s knees as he sits up.

“Eat quickly, you’ve much to do.”

Thor gives him a curious look, but again makes no objection. He eats his food obediently enough, then looks to a Loki for direction.

_ Good _ .  _ This will be the test, though. _

He picks up the plate, and pulls the sheet off Thor. His brother’s eyes widen in surprise and his hands move down to cover his privates.

“Loki...”

“What? It’s time to get up.”

“Clothes. You took my old clothes.”

“They were fit for nothing but burning.”

“Conjure me something then, as you did for the meeting.”

Loki shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t need them in here. I’ll decide how and when you are dressed, and you won’t question it.”

Thor shakes his head, but before he can argue Loki reaches out to stroke his scalp again, pleased when Thor’s eyes slide closed and he leans into his touch.

“It’s easy if you don’t fight me. There will be times when we both enjoy you fighting me, but for now you need for things to be easy, do you not?”

Slowly, Thor nods.

“We’re safe in here. The doors are warded. No one may enter but you and I. No one will see you but myself.”

He can see Thor is still fighting against it, and so he waits. He can be patient if it’s absolutely required.

“You and he...the other Thor. You treated him in this way? Telling him what he may and may not do.”

“It calmed him when nothing else could.”

“And you...you lay together.”

“We did.”

“And you and I...”

“Are still getting to know one another. But this is how our journey together starts, if you wish it.”

Thor chews his lip. “I don’t know what I want, only that I want you here with me, and that I feel better than I have in a long time.”

“Up then. And don’t cover your body from my eyes.”

Thor does as he commands, albeit with many an embarrassed glance at Loki. His prick is familiar enough, starting to grow hard and stand up from that spungold nest of hair. He feels his own desire flare up, and tamps it down only with great difficulty. This man is heavier than the Thor of his own world, and some of his muscle has gone to seed, but he’s as beautiful as ever, the curves and planes of his body no less enticing. The expression on his face- shame fighting desire is the same as it always was and it makes Loki thrill to see it. 

“I used my magic to tidy this place up a little. It was unbearable,” he says. “But you will take care of the floors. There’s a pail of water downstairs, and a cloth. You won’t talk until I tell you you may, and you’ll work quickly. Understand?”

He sees the spark of wounded pride in Thor’s eyes- a King, made to scrub the floors of his own domain on his knees, and stripped bare to boot, and it pleases him. 

_ A seed of pride can be grown. _

It takes Thor most of the morning. Loki watches at first, pretending to read a book, but mesmerized by the sight of that beautiful body at work. Thor forgets his shyness by degrees, losing himself in the work, his self-consciousness and worries falling away. This is what he needed- not indulgence and pity, but to be put in traces and made to pull. 

Loki doesn’t follow as he moves on to the stairs and the upper floors. He wants Thor to crave his attention and praise as much as he craves the Midgardian ale, and so for now he’ll ration it carefully.

Nevertheless he’s surprised when Thor, having finished returns to the sofa, and after a moment’s hesitation kneels at his feet.

“It’s done,” Thor says.

“Good. Need I check it?”

Thor shakes his head.

“Very good, Brother.” He leans forward, elbows on knees. “Do you know why I had you do it?”

Thor frowns. “I...to punish me. To shame me.”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because the sight of it pleases me, and because you are the King, and a King deserves to live in a house that is not ankle-deep in dust.”

Thor looks up at him, confused. “I’m not...”

“You  _ are _ King. I am your Master, or at least I was, but you are King. And you are worthy.”

Thor’s face darkens. “You're wrong, Loki. Master or no.”

“Summon that marvelous new weapon of yours,” says Loki. If he’s heartened that Thor does not challenge his use of the term Master he can’t show it. This lesson is too important.

Thor hesitates and Loki sighs. “It was not a request.”

“But I...”

“Thor? Make it easy.”

He thinks Thor will balk, but instead he holds out his hand. Loki can feel the seidr surge and bend as Stormbreaker thumps into Thor’s hand.  _ Norns, it’s stronger even than Mjolnir. _

“Could an unworthy King forge such a weapon?”

“That was before.”

“Before what? Before you took a stand against a foe more powerful than any could comprehend? No, an unworthy warrior could not touch such a weapon without being destroyed.”

Thor doesn’t argue, but his face is twisted with shame.

“I’m not worthy.”

“You think the seidr is wrong? Arrogant of you, brother.”

“I’m not arrogant, I just don’t deserve this weapon.”

“Stormbreaker disagrees. The ancient magic of Asgard disagrees. The fact that you are holding Stormbreaker unscathed is proof of your worth, and so you’ll continue to do so until the lesson sinks in.”

* * *

There’s what’s difficult, which is to question the strange new feelings that whirl through his mind, and what’s easy, which is the dusty tiles, the pail of water, and the cloth in his hands. Of course it isn’t easy at first. Ever since Loki stripped the sheets off him he’s been half paralyzed with embarrassment. His body is not what it was, and even if it were, he’s not used to Loki looking at his naked body. Worse still is how it stirs his dormant libido, and how impossible it is to hide his arousal when Loki won’t let him cover himself.

_ You don’t have to obey. _

And yet doesn’t it feel good to do so?  _ Safe. How long since you’ve felt safe? _

The longer he works, the less he minds Loki’s eyes on him. His self consciousness over the sway of his belly, and the new plump roundness of his backside fades. Loki’s look is not disgusted, but  _ hungry _ . And after he’s half-done with the first room he finds himself disappointed when Loki looks to his book instead of himself. As he moves on to the upper rooms he falls into a sort of a dream. The honest work of cleaning the floor- not something he’s ever done in his life before, and the memory of Loki’s fingers stroking his head that morning are all there is. 

_ He’s making a pet of you, to touch you that way _ .

It ought to feel like an insult. Instead it’s a kind of relief as potent as any of the potions Loki has spooned patiently into his mouth. 

His knees and shoulders ache by the time he’s finished. He’s not used to anything more strenuous than lifting a bottle to his lips. Loki sits where Thor left him, still intent on his book.

Thor doesn’t know what to say, and some of his earlier embarrassment stirs, but then he remembers Loki’s command: no talking until he’s told he can.

_ He’s right, this is easier. _

And because his legs are tired, and because all he wants in the world right now is to be near to Loki, and because it seems right, he drops to his knees at Loki’s feet and waits.

* * *

And now there’s another test. 

“Hold it above your head, as high as you can.”

And he does, because it’s still easier to obey. Stormbreaker grounds and comforts him.

_ You’ve no right to feel such comfort. _

And yet isn’t Loki correct? Could an unworthy warrior lift the axe and survive? He looks up at Loki, but his face is unreadable. 

_ Master. He called himself my Master.  _

It’s all but overwhelming. Loki is back, but things between them are so different and confusing. And what’s most confusing is how good it feels. It even feels good as Loki strides around him, correcting his posture with light nudges of his polished boot and cool fingers.

“Part your thighs a little more. Shoulders back.”

The hem of his silk robes brushes Thor’s thigh and he shivers, the hair on his neck prickling up. He’s aware that his breath comes faster, his nipples and his prick are starting to stiffen, and he feels Loki’s eyes on him, and his own blush in response. What he wants is for Loki to touch him. A sudden, shameful need that eclipses all else, but Loki is taking his seat again, crossing one elegant leg over the other.

“Good. What a picture you look. Beautiful. Powerful. The wielder of Stormbreaker. Think on it well, and remember it tomorrow every time your muscles twinge.”

Thor doesn’t ask him what he means, and after a while it becomes apparent anyway. Loki goes back to his book, and Thor kneels in place, holding Stormbreaker above his head. Strong as he is, his arms begin to shake somewhere during the second hour, and as the sun heats the room sweat begins to trickle down his straining body. 

Loki glances up occasionally, and when he does Thor finds himself kneeling up straighter, spreading his thighs wider, trying his best to signal his obedience without even thinking it.

He’s at the end of his power when Loki finally sets his book aside. 

“Good. You may lay down your weapon, my King.”

His tone isn’t mocking, and even if it were Thor wouldn’t care. His body aches as it hasn’t in a long while- the honest ache of physical exercise. He sets Stormbreaker down carefully and waits.

“Come here,” says Loki softly, patting his knee.

He could get up and sit beside Loki, but it would not be right. It would break the spell they’ve cast here. Instead he crawls forward to lay his head on Loki’s lap, and as his brother’s fingers run through his damp hair he knows peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this so far. We’re living in some interesting fucking times, but writing this is helping me, and I hope that reading it is helping you guys take your mind off things for a while too. 💜


	3. Dinner And A Show

That afternoon they talk, sitting side by side on the sofa as though all of this is very normal. It feels like an exchange of truths to Thor, though with Loki one can never be sure. He answers Thor’s questions readily enough, and asks plenty of his own. Together they unroll the maps of their histories, laying one atop the other to puzzle over the palimpsest of their experiences. All the while Thor steals small glances at him, still hungry for the sight of him, the sound of his voice, the meeting of their eyes. Eyes he thought closed forever.

_It’s Loki_. One who has been tempered and damaged by his life in different ways than the Loki Thor knew, but the same being. Nothing will ever repair the loss of his own Loki, and yet having him back at all is a dream made real, and he’s dazed by it. By the time the sun has set they’re talking as they always did. As brothers.

It’s Loki who breaks the spell. “We should eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

Thor stretches. The muscles of his arms and shoulders ache- Loki’s reminder of his worthiness. His brother surprises him by kneeling up next to him on the sofa.

“Here.” His thumbs dig into the knotted muscle under Thor’s shoulder blades, his strong fingers squeezing and kneading out the worst of the pain.

Thor’s dressed again now, and feels a fresh pang of self consciousness as Loki’s hands slips beneath the collar of the soft robes he conjured for him. Not a warrior’s garment, but of Asgard.

“You garbed me in a scholar’s robes,” says Thor. “They’d suit you better.”

Loki’s hands withdraw and Thor tries not to mind it. 

“Nonsense. You were always cleverer than they gave you credit for. Besides which, you’re my student now, are you not?”

Loki’s breath tickles his ear, and he’s all too aware of the warmth of his body pressed to his back.

“Your student? I suppose so,” says Thor. He can feel the color rising in his cheeks. “I’m not sure what lesson you’re teaching me.”

Loki laughs. “Leave the lies to those who are talented at them. Your subjects dress as Midgardians now, I notice.”

Thor frowns. “They're trying to make a home here.”

“By losing their culture? Forgetting who they are?”

“I...hadn’t given it much thought.”

“As a scholar, and as a King, it’s your duty to think of these things. But first, we eat.” 

Loki stands, pulling Thor up with him. “No cooks or banqueting halls either. We must find our own food like vagabonds I suppose.” He smiles to let Thor know he’s teasing, and yet his words sting anyway. The Kingdom dies when the King is weak. In allowing himself to slide away into oblivion has he consigned Asgard to the same fate? 

“What do you care if Asgard is lost?” Thor says. “You just finished telling me how you hated Asgard in the end. How Asgard destroyed everything you loved. Even before Hela’s reign you were an outsider, and they never let you forget it.”

Loki shrugs. “One can hate and love at the same time. Are we two not proof of that? You with your golden crown and me with my bitterness. We break apart, only to come back together and cleave to each other more strongly than ever before.”

“You have an Asgardian’s flair for making speeches,” says Thor. But he can’t deny he’s excited by Loki in this mood. His mask of insincerity set aside, so serious and intent, trying to persuade those around him to bend to his will and to see the world as he’d have it.

“Perhaps it’s as you say.”

“It is,” Loki replies. “Always.” That smile again, half teasing, half serious.

Thor takes a step closer to Loki. 

Loki’s eyes search his face, a familiar frown knotting his brow. 

“Did you...” he shakes his head.

“Did we what?” Thor asks.

“Did you truly never lie together?”

“Never.”

Loki’s frown deepens. “Did you never even feel it? The pull between us? Or was it different for the two of you?”

“It was no different, And as for feeling the pull, I did-of course I did. But I never had the courage to speak to him about it. Like a fool I kept waiting and waiting. There were moments where I thought it might happen. One moment in particular, in the heat of battle of New York, it was. I begged him to come to me, told him that no matter how far he strayed I’d never consider him lost. the look he gave me then...he was on the urge of admitting it, I could feel it.”

“And what happened?” Loki asks.

Thor shakes his head, embarrassed. “He stabbed me.”

Loki laughs. “Well, that’s merely flirtation! You can’t blame him for that. I never said I was an easy lover.”

“You’ve never been an easy anything.”

Loki flashes him a wicked smile. “Oh, you’d be surprised, brother. But maybe not for too much longer? You’ve been receptive to my lessons so far.”

He moves closer still. Only an inch between them now, and Thor swears he can feel the heat from Loki’s body scalding him. He both fears and longs for closing the last of the space between him, to feel that slender, muscular, deadly body in his arms at last. They called Loki mad, but never guessed how deep his own madness ran. The guilty, terrible longing that has underscored their every moment together since he knew how to want such things.

He jumps when the backs of Loki’s curled fingers brush his neck.

“You look troubled, brother. What’s on your mind?”

Thor searches desperately for the words. He can feel his cheeks blazing, and they blaze hotter still when Loki’s finger presses against his lips. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to say it. I know what you’re thinking. I know that look.” He laughs again, a low husky laugh that makes the hair on Thor’s neck prickle. 

“I know your body as well as you do yourself, brother. I know what you like, what you crave, what will bring you to your knees.” The finger taps his lips once and is gone.

“Loki....”

“You enjoyed kneeling to me earlier, did you not?”

Slowly Thor nods. 

“It gave you peace.”

“Aye. I don’t know why...”

Loki shrugs. “It’s natural, really. You’ve been primed to rule from birth. Of course you ache to set down the burden. Just as I ache to make a pet of you.”

“A...a pet?” falters Thor.

“A pet, a plaything, slave to my desires. Anything I feel like.” 

There’s a hardness in Loki’s eyes now, something assessing and predatory, but instead of feeling wariness it only makes the warm, melting part inside Thor spread. He can feel himself growing hard again- the heat within him gathering in his belly and his balls and his stiffening prick. He hopes that Loki does not notice and that he does both at the same time.

Whether he notices or not, Loki gives no sign. Instead he reaches out once more to push Thor’s robes off his shoulders. He does it slowly, as if enjoying the anticipation of the slow reveal of the bare flesh beneath. The whisper of the soft fabric on his skin and the cool night air through the open window, and the knowledge that it’s _Loki_ doing this to him makes Thor shiver. The robes drop in a heap around his ankles. _You spent the whole morning bared to him, why does it feel like the first time all over again?_ Thor’s breath is coming faster now. His cock is achingly hard, and his face bright red and he feels half-dizzy with his need for Loki.

Loki merely looks at him, head to one side. When he speaks his voice is calm, and so soft Thor can barely hear it above the thunder of his pulse in his head.

“What would you like from me, pet?”

Thor licks his lips. “I...I don’t know. Everything.”

Loki laughs. “Everything? I’m not Odin. You don’t get _everything_ until you’ve earned it. Or until you’re ready for it.”

“I’m ready,” Thor says. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. “I should have told him how I felt when I had the chance. I’ll not miss it again. I want you, Loki. Norns, I _need_ you. Please.”

Loki pushes his hair back from his brow- his age-old gesture of indecision. “You're still healing.”

“What you did to me today healed me more than all your potions and bed rest.”

“Truly?”

Thor nods. “Aye, it’s true. If fear of harming me is what’s holding you back brother, then don’t hold back any longer, for I don’t think I can stand it.”

“And can you stand what I intend to do to you?”

“Why not find out?”

Loki grabs Thor’s hips, yanking him close. Even in his fantasies it’s never been like this. The cool leather and warm silk pressed against his own nakedness, Loki’s fingers digging possessively into the thick flesh of his waist, and his brother’s hot breath on his ear. It’s both maddening and exciting that Loki’s skin is hidden beneath all that supple leather while he himself is so vulnerable. Buckles and clasps bite into his skin as Loki pulls him closer still, while his own hands have to make do traveling over the smooth curves of metal and silk. The denial only increases his need. It feels right that Loki’s body should be something he earns while his own is freely available.

Loki’s hands run up his chest, pinching at his nipples. The extra weight he’s carrying makes him feel vulnerable in a way he never did when his body was hard and muscular. He’s ashamed of the way Loki is able to cup and squeeze at his chest as a man would a maiden's breasts, and yet it excites him too, to be handled so crudely and so boldly, and with such evident desire. It’s so different from the worshipful caresses of the dazzled maidens of Asgard, and even Jane Foster, who was always so tender and so yielding.

“So greedy, to want everything. You always did rush into things, brother.”   
Loki’s lips tickling at Thor’s ear makes him moan, but when he tries to press the aching length of his cock more snugly to the hollow of Loki’s hip, his brother stops him, pushing him away.

“Not yet. You’ll wait for that. Your pleasure is mine now, understand?”

He doesn’t, not entirely, and yet he finds himself nodding anyway. Easier to give in to it. To let Loki think for both of them.

“Thor?”

Thor’s eyes dart back to Loki’s. That steady gaze centers and soothes him. Loki is stroking his back now, gentle once more. He leans forward, his lips brushing Thor”s own, not quite a kiss, more of a challenge. _Can you do as I ask?_

To do as Loki commands is so new to him. For all the talk of their being raised as equals it’s long been clear to all of them who was the favored son of Asgard. Who would rule and who would follow. It bewilders him, that Loki would still call him King- would urge him to live up to his title in fact- and yet demand he yield in this way.

_And will you do it?_

The true question is what wouldn’t he do to be near to this man? He’s waited so long. He can wait longer if it’s Loki who asks it of him, and he’s always been an honest about himself no matter how unpalatable the truth. He _wants_ this. It’s that simple. So he waits, no matter how excruciating it is to have Loki’s lips brushing his own, their breath mingling, those clever blue eyes piercing him so that his very soul seems to squirm on the hook of Loki’s will..

Eventually, Loki leans back, fixing Thor with one of his wickedest smiles. 

“You learn quickly. How I missed you.” His smile fades, replaced with a look of unaccustomed seriousness. 

“I never thought I’d see you again. Even when the other came to me, I couldn’t quite believe that it was real.”

“It’s a miracle,” Thor says softly.

“We are each other’s miracle, brother.” 

Loki’s kiss is more tender than he’d expected. He’s never kissed another man before, let alone _this_ man, and yet it feels right. He’s come to know shame intimately these past few years, but this does not shame him. Loki’s skin is harsher than a woman’s, and the rasp of their stubble together is certainly something new, and yet the newness of it inflames him. Loki’s tongue pushes into his mouth and his arousal nearly buckles his knees. He can’t help but press forward against Loki again, and this time his brother does not stop him, in fact he pulls him closer, nudging his hip against Thor’s desperate cock, as he kisses him harder still. All the world is Loki, the softness of his hair as Thor raises his hand to cradle his head, the scent of his body, the heat of his mouth. He can feel Loki’s hardness pressing against his own cock through all that maddening silk, and the thought of what he might do with it captivates Thor. Will Loki want to take him as a man takes a maiden? He’s never considered being penetrated before, to have his mouth or more dismayingly still his _other_ hole used for the pleasure of another man’s cock. The thought makes him quail, fearless warrior that he is. And yet the thought of _Loki_ doing that to him has him on the edge of spending.

Finally- far too soon-Loki breaks away. 

“Loki please, I’d hold you longer.”

“And I’d hold you for all time, yet what kind of master would I be if I let my pet starve? We must eat, and then you must rest.”

The last thing on Thor’s mind is food. His balls ache with the need for release. He’s never had to go wanting like this before. A handsome prince seldom finds himself waiting on the pleasure of others, and yet Loki leaving him like this- half crazed with need- only adds to his desire. In fact Loki is already turning away from Thor, disappearing into the kitchen, and Thor follows behind him, not knowing what else to do.

_Like a puppy at his master’s heels. I’m a pet to him after all, just as he said._

The thought ought to dismay him, yet it does not. Again, it’s a different brand of shame to that which has engulfed him since his failure to destroy Thanos. A warm bath instead of a black, depthless ocean.

_But you might drown in it all the same._ Well, he was drowning anyway, what difference will it make? And the need in him eclipses all else. It’s like Loki has him on a leash- fine gold chain it would be, wrapped tightly around the aching length of his prick, and Loki might lead him about by it for all the world to see if he chose to. The thought makes him moan again, and Loki glances back, amused.

“Suffering, are we? My poor brother is not used to waiting for what he desires.”

Loki flops elegantly into one of the kitchen chairs, crossing one high leather boot over his knee. Since the sight of that gleaming leather is sending his mind in all sorts of odd directions Thor turns away, trying to ground himself in the normality of this Midgardian home. A pleasant room, this kitchen. Old by the standards of Midgard, the stone floors and iron hob polished smooth with age. The windows are wreathed with thick and gnarled creepers of rambling rose, and the sound of a buoy’s bell ringing out to sea drifts in on the breeze. No palace, it’s true, but it might make a fine home. He almost panics at the sudden rush of a feeling he hasn’t known in a long time. 

_Happy. You could be happy again one day. You could live._

Loki nudges his leg gently with the toe of his boot. “Food. I’m hungry, even if you’re not.”

“Food?”

“Your people have been bringing supplies. I’ve been cooking for you for days. It’s beyond your turn, brother.”

Thor gasps as Loki’s hand closes briefly around his cock, squeezing tantalisingly. “If you please me, I might let you have your own pleasure. Or maybe not? You’re almost too much fun like this.”

The best Thor can manage is an incoherent noise, before he stumbles away to see what might be in the fridge. 

* * *

Inevitably for New Asgard it’s fish. Prince that he is, Thor knows how to prepare such a meal. The hunting trips they enjoyed together as boys usually ended with the cooking of whatever beast they’d slain or hauled out of the river. _And then there’d be drinking, and tall tales, and Loki’s increasing impatience with Fandral’s boasting, or Volstagg’s jests, and he’d slink off to sleep in his tent, and I’d sit by the fire failing to work up the courage to join him._

It’s not the most elegant meal, but after the false comfort of the slop he’d mindlessly shoveled into himself during the worst of his despair such simple food as baked fish and greens tastes ambrosial. Almost good enough to distract him from the manner in which he eats. He hadn’t thought Loki was serious at first when he’d taken Thor’s plate and it on the floor at his feet, and yet instead of arguing, Thor finds himself kneeling beside Loki’s chair, bolting his supper from the plate like a hunting hound. 

“I thought you might try to use your hands.” Loki says, eventually. “I should have remembered that you never do anything by half measures. I’m glad. It saves time.”

A reply does not seem necessary, but Thor glows at the compliment, and when Loki starts to stroke his back, he knows that if he were a hound he’d be wagging his tail with pleasure. He’s failed at so much of late, but _this_ he might succeed at.

“Next time, less salt,” Loki says, setting down his fork. It would not be Loki without a barbed thorn hidden among the roses after all.

He kicks Thor’s own plate away across the floor the second he’s finished eating, but his hand on Thor’s back lets him know he isn’t to move. 

“You did a fine job polishing this floor,” Loki says. “I can see your blushing face reflected in it. Cook, scullery maid, is there no end to your hidden talents?” He pats Thor’s ass, which both embarrasses him and gets his cock stirring again. 

“Thank you, brother. I’m glad I’ve pleased you.”

“You’ve been a good little pet. What do you want as a reward, I wonder?”

“Just to be close to you,” Thor says.

“Very well. Lay your head down on my boot,” Loki says softly. Thor shuffles closer to Loki feeling clumsy and foolish, but wanting this anyhow. The scent of the soft leather stirs him, and the warmth of the flesh beneath it is some compensation for the humiliation of the position with his ass up in the air, Loki’s hand still resting on it, stroking idly. 

“So, you never lay with him.”

“No,” says Thor.

The hand on his ass slaps him lightly. 

“When you’re naked before me you will call me Master. Understand?”

Thor can only nod. 

“Did you lie with any man?”

“No...no Master,” Thor replies. 

“So you’ve never been fucked.” 

He’s unused to hearing such crude words in his brother’s cultured voice, and the ease with which he speaks them startles Thor.

“I...I've lain with women.”

“And did any of _them_ take you in that way?”

“I...” Thor is quickly losing the thread of this conversation. His cock is painfully hard once more, and he’s never felt more bewildered or helplessly aroused.

“I mean _this,_ ” says Loki, and Thor gasps as Loki’s finger slips down between his buttocks.

“Are you telling me this sweet little knot has never even been touched by another?”

Thor moans as Loki’s finger tickles at the sensitive ring of his asshole. “Never even a finger, or a tongue?”

“Norns, no, no one’s ever...Loki, I mean _Master_ , please!”

Loki laughs and his hand withdraws. 

“So shy, brother. And such a terrible pity when I know how you love to be touched there. I’m going to teach you all about your body. I’m going to do things to you that you cannot imagine, and you’re going to love every second of it. To find you all but a virgin. I never expected this.”

Loki squeezes Thor’s ass again, and he closes his eyes as he feels the tip of his cock start to drool. Has he ever felt this close to spending and been denied so long? How will he stand much more of this?

“But surely when you pleasure yourself you must have put that little hole to use?”

Loki slaps his ass again, harder this time.

“I asked you a question, pet.”

“Loki, please, how can I answer it? I cannot speak of such things!”

“You can if I tell you to. Do you think such matters are private?”

“I...I don’t know. Yes, of course they are!” 

To even admit that he might pleasure himself, let alone discuss the details of it is madness. Surely even Loki understands this?

Loki sighs. “Norns. All that Asgardian repression. Luckily it was a pleasure to fuck it out of you the first time. Up. On your feet.”

For lack of a better plan Thor obeys. 

Loki smirks when he sees Thor’s prick. “You say no, but _he_ says yes, so which part of you am I to believe, my King?” His hand closes around Thor’s shaft, stroking him in slow, tight, excruciating tugs. “Do you want to be done for the night and sent to your bed unsatisfied, or would you like relief?”

It’s not too difficult a question at this point. “Master please, I need to spend,” Thor begs.

“Take that chair and put it opposite mine, then you may sit in it.”

Thor scrambles to do as Loki says. Somehow it’s worse being up here on his level. On the floor it felt possible to hide, but now he’s all too aware of Loki’s eyes on his body.

“Spread your legs. Hook them over the arms of the chair,” says Loki with a wave of his hand.

_What kind of monster is he that he can ask such a thing so casually?_

“Or you can go to bed.”

Thor closes his eyes as he struggles to lift his legs over the low wooden arms of the chair. It feels absurdly small beneath him. He’s all too aware at the sight he must present, his thighs spread wide apart, his balls sagging down to rest on the wooden seat, his cock a red and throbbing exclamation mark against the bulge of his belly.

Loki stretches luxuriously, leaning back and crossing his hands on his own flat stomach. 

“Very pretty, brother. So. You’re ashamed even to admit that you touch yourself?”

“I don’t. I...”

Loki shakes his head. “You do. Tell me what you do. I know you don’t play with that eager little hole, so perhaps you just finger your prick? You never did have much of an imagination.” His eyes lock with Thor’s. “Is that what you do? Tell me.”

“I...” Thor knows that his cheeks must be as scarlet as his cock.

“You can’t tell me?”

Thor shakes his head.

“Very well. Show me.”

“Show you?”

“Aye, Thor. Show me. Or else go to your bed. And you’ll sleep with your hands bound to the bedstead and your cock hungry. And it will stay hungry for a long time. If you want to spend, you’ll show me how you touch yourself.”

He can’t do it. Not in front of Loki. And yet he can’t _not_ do it. His balls feel swollen to bursting and his cock aches with need. Loki does not relent even when the tears well up in his eyes as he wraps his trembling hand around his shaft.

The slick sound of his own hand working his prick fills the room, and the smell of his own sweat and the salt of his tears and the steady leak of his spend shames him beyond measure. And all the time Loki watches, lolling in his chair as though at a mildly amusing play at Court, and now- curse him!- Thor wants to please him. Wants to offer up his need and his humiliation and everything he has to give to earn his approval. 

When he comes it’s powerful enough to dizzy him, and indeed he finds himself sliding out of the chair to slump in a sweating, ruined heap on the cool stone floor.

He hears Loki tutting. 

“Such a mess you’ve made of your clean floor, brother. But how lovely you looked doing it. I’m pleased with you, love.”

_Love._

He’d do it all again and more to hear that word on Loki’s lips.

“Master, please will, you hold me? I need you.”

“Of course, pet. I’ve pushed you hard on your first night. But first you must put right the mess you made, of the floor and of my boots. My second favorite pair, too.”

Thor blinks at the stone flags where his own spend is spattered, and sure enough Loki’s boot has been splashed with it as well. 

“The water bucket is upstairs,” he says.

“You don’t need the bucket,” Loki replies airily. “Use your tongue. It may as well begin its training tonight too.”

If he thinks about it he might lose his nerve, and so he doesn’t think. He crawls across the floor towards Loki, licking his own spend from the smooth stone as he goes, and once he reaches his Master’s feet he finds he’s hungry for the taste of the fine leather on his tongue. Loki bends down to stroke his hair as he licks and kisses Loki’s boots, beyond shame now. Beyond anything but his need to express his love. He knows in this moment that if Loki wishes to take him- to _fuck_ him- he’ll do more than submit to it, he’ll beg for it.

Finally Loki stops him. 

“Enough Thor, enough, you’ve done so well. You must rest, recover.”

Loki stands, pulling Thor to his feet, wrapping his arms around him, kissing his neck and his ears, and finally his mouth, not seeming to care where it has been in the slightest. He can feel that Loki is hard, but when he reaches tentativly for his cock, Loki stops him.

“Sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow. More than I guessed at, and if I begin something now I won't be able to stop it any time soon. I mean to take my time with you, brother.”

Thor feels his panic rise at the thought of what that might mean, but the strength of Loki’s arms, pressing him to that compact little body steadies him. So long as he can cling to Loki he might face any fear. Even the thoughts that come to him when his exhausted mind chases sleep.

“Would you share my bed tonight?” Thor stammers. “I just want to be near you. If you’re with me I’ll be able to sleep.”

He expects Loki to say no, but his brother nods. 

“You’ve earned it. And I’d be near you too.”

He kisses Thor again, tender now. “I want you to get all the rest you need. Your training has begun, but we’ve far to travel you and I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That awkward moment when you can’t think of a better chapter title than the joke one. Sorry this update took a while. I managed to get corona like some sort of early adopter plague hipster, and I’m in week three of feeling shitty. Recovered enough to write smut, which is what counts.


	4. The Broken Vessel

In his old life, Loki made it a habit to waken early. In fact, he’d prided himself upon it- to be found already at his books or his spells or training in the weapons hall by the rest of the palace when they awoke. He’d liked to send the message that they could never hope to catch him sleeping, literally or otherwise. But now...maybe some of Thor’s own bad habits are becoming his own.

_It doesn’t feel bad, though._

In truth it feels like heaven to wake up wrapped in Thor’s arms again. They fell asleep with a careful gully of empty space between them, but it seems that even in sleep they are to be drawn together once more by that mysterious force that not even death can dispel. 

So although the sunlight already slips in through the cracks in the curtains, Loki snuggles in closer, his face pressed to Thor’s gently rising chest, their legs tangled together, His fingers curled in Thor’s hair, and all the world is warmth and comfort and the scent and the feel of the one who is dearer to him than any other in the multiverse, his own self included. 

The thought of what he’d had Thor do the night before makes him feel a twinge of both shame and desire. Thor had knelt to him willingly, and that was as far as he’d meant to take it, but he hadn’t been able to help himself. He’d needed more. Thor’s mouth on his own, the power of raising his blood to his cheeks and his cock as he blushed and demurred and then did as Loki commanded him to anyhow. This strong, beautiful, _good_ man, who ought to bow to no one bowing to him, and _wanting_ it. Surrendering in love, with such perfect trust. The look on his face as Loki had made him stroke his beautiful cock, so utterly vulnerable, and just for _him_.

Loki props himself up on his elbow so that he might look upon Thor’s sleeping face. A small frown knots his brow, and Loki wonders what it is he dreams of. _I hope that I did not ask too much of you, love._ But already his desire is pushing his restraint aside, and he can’t help but bend to press his lips to Thor’s own again, kissing him awake. 

Thor blinks at him sleepily, but does not pull back. Instead he tugs Loki closer, kissing him roughly, his hand knotted in Loki’s hair. Loki’s cock is already hard- he starved himself last night and he feels he could eat Thor whole. He nips at Thor’s lips and Thor growls a little, then rolls the two of them over, pinning Loki beneath him, Thor’s hands wrapping tightly around Loki’s wrists, trapping them at either side of his head. 

Thor’s used to it being this way, Loki guesses. Taking charge, being the big strong hero for whatever blushing maiden he’s fallen into bed with. Loki’s almost tempted to go with it.

_So powerful. He could break me in two if he wished to._ But it’s that very power which makes a surrender to Loki’s will even more exciting than allowing Thor to fuck him as he’s fucked all those other worshipful lovers.

Loki doesn’t need to match Thor’s physical power to take control, he has an arsenal of more potent weapons at his disposal. He need not try to break free of Thor’s grip -undignified and likely impossible- it’s enough to wrap his legs around Thor’s hips, to push the length of his erection slowly, deliciously along Thor’s own. To squirm his tongue more deeply into Thor’s mouth, slowing his kisses, making Thor match his own pace, until Thor’s breathing hard, his spend making the rub of their cocks slick and almost unbearably delicious. Thor’s grip on his arms has loosened, and he moves his hips slowly, keeping time with Loki.

“Stop.” Loki says softly, squeezing with his knees. No need to raise his voice with Thor in this state. 

“Brother, please...”

“You need not beg me, My King. You’ll have all you want. Eventually.” 

Gently he withdraws his wrists from Thor’s grasp, and pushes him back, sliding out from beneath him to sit up on the bed. Thor sits opposite him, looking both impatient and confused. 

_I must not forget how new this is to him_. 

“Last night...” Loki begins.

Right away, Thor’s face colors, as he remembers what Loki had him do.

“Last night was beautiful.” Loki continues quickly, “ _You_ are beautiful, brother.”

“Then why have we stopped?”

Loki smiles. “We only get to do this for the first time once...or no, I suppose that’s no longer true. But you and I only get to do this for the first time once. And I wish to take my time with you. I want it to be good for you.”

Thor makes an impatient noise. “You need not worry. I want this. I want you, brother.”

Loki runs his fingers over the curve of Thor’s belly, and Thor flinches.

“ _This_.” He says. “The way your face changes when I touch you. You still feel ashamed of your body.”

“Of course I do! Look at me.”

“As beautiful as you ever were- All this voluptuous flesh! I can hardly keep my hands off you, Thor, but I need you to see yourself as I do. I want you _with me_. Present. Not locked up in some corner of your mind apart from me, while our bodies couple.”

Thor looks away. “This body...this is my failure on show. You expect me to be proud of it?”

“This is just a body. A very beautiful one.”

Thor shakes his head. “What does it matter anyway? You said...” he looks away. “You wanted to master me. You’re as beautiful as you ever were, and I’ve waited long for the chance to worship you.”

Loki kisses Thor gently. “And they say I’m the one with the silver tongue.” He laughs. “Maybe I ought to reclaim my crown. Put my tongue to better use?”

Thor’s face reddens. “What do you mean?”

“Lie down.” 

Thor glances at him suspiciously, but he does what Loki says. His cock lolls, half hard on his thigh, so Loki supposes his own self-disgust hasn’t cooled his fires completely. Good.

“Do I need to bind your hands, brother, or can you keep hold of the bedstead if I require it of you?”

Thor looks startled at this question, but closes his hands around the wooden beam above his pillow. He almost lets go of it again when Loki stoops to kiss the swell of his belly, but a look from Loki quells him. The golden skin is lightly covered by a fuzz of hair, and the smell of Thor’s body, familiar, masculine intoxicating, overwhelms him for a second or two, so that before he knows it he’s straddling Thor’s thighs. _Norns, I go to all the trouble to set up this little game, and all I want is to sink him inside me._

But really, it’s not too arduous a task to slow himself down. He smiles at the way Thor gasps when Loki’s prick brushes his own, but Loki doesn’t want him distracted and raises himself higher.

Thor groans in frustration. “What is it you mean to do, Loki?”

“ _Master_. As much as I love the sound of my name on your tongue in that tone, you call me Master, remember?”

“Master, then,” says Thor. He winces slightly as he says it, but Loki knows him well enough to ken it’s because it arouses him rather than pains him.

“I mean to taste you, brother.”

“Taste me?”

“Every inch of you- well, all of the interesting ones anyway-until you can’t possibly doubt how delicious you are.”

“But...”

“You won’t need to talk, but you may make any other noises you feel like.”

He bends and licks a slow trail over Thor’s belly. He tastes of salt and sleep, and the curls of his hair tickle Loki’s tongue. The flesh beneath him rises and falls faster as Thor breathes harder.

“Ahh, that tickles.”

“No talking, remember?” To punish Thor, Loki darts his tongue into his navel. If his brother needs to experience what ticklish _really_ feels like, Loki’s always happy to oblige.

Thor squirms and gasps, but Loki doesn’t relent. Thor’s belly is so soft and so delicious, especially when it jiggles as he tries to avoid Loki’s merciless tongue. After a while though he gives in.

_Good._

Loki sits up again, cupping Thor’s belly in his hands, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs. Thor doesn’t wince now. Nor does he stiffen as Loki kisses the pillowy plumpness of his thighs, and his arms, the strong cords of muscle softened by delicious flesh.

“Beautiful.” Loki says. He leans forward to squeeze the soft swells of Thor’s pectorals. “So luscious, this new body of yours.”

Thor moans as Loki puts his tongue to work on his nipples, offered up to him so prettily on the swells of flesh that spill over the tight grip of his hands. His own cock aches with need, but he must set an example for his pet. He said he meant to taste Thor, and he means to do it. He pats Thor’s belly. 

“Open your legs for me. Show me my throne.”

Thor looks confused, but does as Loki commands. Loki feels a little confused himself. The sweet musk of Thor’s prick as he sucks it slowly into his mouth is as familiar to him as breathing, and yet it’s also completely new for the two of them.

_He’s never had another man’s mouth on his cock before, let alone his wicked brother’s_. 

“Oh norns, Loki!”

He can tell from the way Thor’s prick twitches and stiffens on his tongue that he’s starting to come, and pulls back, giving the inside of his thigh a pinch.

“Not yet. I have better use for your spend, brother. Open your legs wider, I’d claim the rest of you.”

* * *

At first the shame overwhelms the pleasure, but as Loki continues to touch him- more than touch, there’s the hot, silken glide of his tongue to contend with too- Thor’s self-consciousness fades. _Perhaps I’m not really so ruined as I thought?_

Loki’s pleasure in exploring his body is all-too evident.

_Loki! It’s Loki here with me!_

But his shame for that too- wanting his own brother in this way- soon crumbles, like a dam washed away by an inexorable tide. He’s grateful that Loki bade him hold onto the bedstead because he feels that he too might be carried away on the strength of his own lust.

When Loki’s breath warms his cockhead he cries out, and when that soft, demanding mouth envelopes the length of his throbbing prick he can’t hold back any longer. He feels his orgasm starting to overflow....but then Loki’s pulling away, leaving him groaning, and working his hips uselessly. 

_Open your legs wider, I’d claim the rest of you._

What else is there but to do as Loki says? Loki’s thumbs parting his buttocks is the most startling sensation yet. His brother’s hair tickles his thighs as he lowers his head. Thor’s face feels hot as a glowing coal as Loki pushes his thighs higer, wider, exposing his most intimate hole.

“So pretty, brother.” 

When Loki’s tongue flickers over the ring of sensitive flesh Thor cries out. 

_No, not that._ But how can he speak the words out loud when they’re such an obvious lie? Loki’s tongue circles his hole, slowly, tantalising and so good that his hovering orgasm sparks again, only to be denied once more as Loki withdraws.

“You taste good, brother, yet I see you’re far too worked up for me to enjoy you properly just now. It seems I must take my throne.”

“Anything. Anything you want.”

Loki smiles- a beautiful smile, with none of the malice that lurks there so often.

“I want _you_. Just as you are. Do you believe me yet?”

“Aye, I do.”

“Then ready me to sit on my throne, brother.”

Loki straddles his face as gracefully as he does everything else. Thor need not be instructed what to do, even though this is new to him. It’s maddening to feel the hungry throb of his denied cock, with the scent of Loki’s body in his nose and the taste of him on his tongue as he laps at Loki’s sack, and then squirms his tongue behind it to find Loki’s hole.

“Ah, yes, that’s it, My King. Show me how grateful you are to be used.”

Loki sinks lower, half cutting of his breath, but Thor doesn’t care- wants it in fact. He licks at the tight knot of muscle, opening it up, teasing his tongue inside it, until Loki’s hips are moving and he’s moaning Thor’s name. Thor’s tongue sinks inside him and Loki all but purrs.

“Norns, enough. Good pet, you did well for your first time.”

Thor only has a few seconds to mourn the loss of Loki’s body before he’s straddling his hips once more, his hand closing around Thor’s cock, stroking him harder- impossibly hard it feels like.

“Do you want to fuck me, brother?”

“I...” Thor can hardly gather a coherent thought with Loki’s hand on his prick and that thought in his head. “I thought you’d want...”

“To fuck you? Just because I’m the Master and you my pet? No, My King. I’ll use your body as I see fit, and right now I want to put this cock to use. To claim my throne.” He laughs, a low husky sound that makes Thor shiver.

“Do you want it?”

“Norns, yes, Master.”

“Well, since you ask so nicely.”

The tightness of Loki’s hole stretching around his cockhead is like nothing he could have imagined. Loki groans and bites his lip as he sinks onto Thor’s cock, the warm oil he’s conjured covering Thor’s balls and thighs as it’s forced out of Loki’s body.

Loki’s prick is leaking its own steady stream, but Loki shakes his head when Thor reaches for it.

“Keep your hands on the bed. Your only job right now is to be still and let me take my pleasure from you. You may come after I do.”

“Inside you?” He blushes to speak the words, and Loki smiles.

“Yes, brother. Inside me.”

These words almost push him over the edge, and there’s an ominous splintering as his fingers dig into the bedstead.

Loki laughs. “Enthusiasm. I like it. But we’ve talked enough, have we not?”

He starts slowly, rolling his hips in long, hungry strokes, Thor’s prick dragging in and out of that tight sheath of muscle until he feels he’ll die from the pleasure of it, but soon both of them need more, and when Loki does not object, Thor begins to thrust himself inside Loki’s hole harder and harder, a hungry, cruel fuck, all need and no tenderness. There seems no limit to what Loki can take. He digs the nails of one hand into the soft flesh of Thor’s thigh, and uses the other to work his prick, shifting his weight back, so that Thor can fuck him even deeper and more cruelly. When he comes his seed lands hot and salty on Thor’s face and chest, and Thor is just a second behind him, the release almost painful in its intensity, gush after gush of spend filling his brother’s overstuffed hole.

Loki collapses forward on top of him, shoving his tongue into his mouth, and their bodies slide together, slippery with sweat. Thor crushes Loki to him as if he means to break him, when it's he who is broken- but broken like a vessel holding some terrible, corrosive poison. It’s draining out of him now- he can feel it go. And what’s left is Loki.

  
  



	5. Rebuilding What Was Lost

Astonishment flashes across Valkyrie’s face for a second, then she masters it. Loki saw it though, Thor can tell from his grin.

_So insufferable you are, Brother. Anyone else would be graceful in victory._

But Loki is graceful in so many other ways, Thor has to give him this.

“You look well, your Majesty.” Valkyrie finally admits. 

“I feel well.”

She stares back at Loki again, through narrowed eyes.

“How did you do it?”

Loki catches Thor’s eye. His smile now is secretive, teasing.

“I have my ways.”

Valkyrie shakes her head. “Whatever you did, it seems to have worked.” She pulls Thor into a hug. “I’m glad. You look like _you_ again.”

The mirror agrees with her. He still carries the weight he put on, but it no longer feels like penance to him. His color’s back. The hair that’s growing in again is golden and shiny instead of lank and tawny with filth. His _mind_ is back. He’s no longer flailing in that dark mire of despair, grabbing for the false ground of alcohol and other wretched distractions.

His sorrow over how things ended with Thanos is still inside of him, but it’s his master no longer. 

_I have a new Master, now._

The thought gets his cock stirring, as does the way Loki’s thigh presses against his when they sit side by side on the sofa in the main room of the house.

_Our house._

He knows he ought to be listening to Valkyrie, but he only has eyes for Loki. His hands are clasped primly in his lap- such long, elegant fingers, like the smooth, cold fingers of a marble statue. Only an hour before they’d been taking possession of his body, slow and teasing, making him gasp and tremble with the gentlest, subtlest touch- Not a thought calculated to clear the mind. He shifts in the cushions, making to lean forward to be sure that his hardness is well hidden in the loose, soft robes Loki has conjured for him, but Loki’s hand moves at once to the back of his neck, fingers digging in just hard enough to make his intention clear.

_Be still._

He freezes at once, but although the pressure of Loki’s grip relaxes, his hand stays where it is, stroking small circles with one finger tip on the nape of Thor’s neck. Loki is speaking now, as though nothing untoward is happening.

“I think we ought to call a meeting of the whole town.”

“We?” asks Valkyrie.

“His Majesty. His Majesty’s advisors.” Loki grins. “I’m staying, Valkyrie, so you may as well get used to me. Has anything I’ve said so far proved false?”

“Not as far as I know,” Valkyrie says, stiffly. “But everyone’s talking about the way you came back from the dead. How you’ve locked Thor away with you.”

“Locked him away? He lives here. It’s our home.”

“ _His_ home. It was given to him, not you."

“Peace, Valkyrie,” Thor interrupts. “He has not locked me away.” _Although the idea is an intriguing one_. “You can see for yourself that I’m better than I have been in a long time. If New Asgard is concerned over my Brother’s return then we must meet together, just as Loki suggests. Let them ask him their questions face to face, Asgardians and Midgardians both if they care to send a delegation.”

“I didn’t suggest _that_ ,” Loki murmurs.

Thor looks to him. “You wanted a King. So I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with my Kingly orders.”

Loki tries for a frown, but smiles in spite of himself. “Perhaps I ought to have poisoned you after all?”

Valkyrie snorts. “Is that kind of talk how you’re going to win them over?”

“So you agree that we ought to win them over?” asks Loki, smoothly.

Valkyrie throws up her hands. “Fine, whatever. A meeting, then, but I’m not sure where we’ll meet. The Hall of New Asgard was never finished. We ran out of funds.”

Thor feels a stab of shame. “Ah. Right. Perhaps we could gather on the headland? The weather is likely to stay fair and that view is why we settled here after all.” 

He trails off for a moment, remembering himself and Loki standing atop a similar rise of land above a similar ocean. _We were divided, then. Odin attempted to draw us together before departing the Realms forever. Did he guess at the truth of our power? That we could only triumph while united? Could that be the reason he took in a foundling Jotun to begin with?_

It’s impossible to know. Odin only ever told either of them a fraction of the truth at a time, and now they’re left with a handful of shards to be sifted through, laid out and rearranged. Perhaps one day they’ll grasp the whole of the meaning he left behind him.

_Perhaps we’ll just make our own._

“A proper meeting hall must be completed.” Loki is saying. “We have masons among our number do we not? Spellsmiths? Architects?”

“Aye, but no gold, remember?” says Valkyrie witheringly. “Midgardian good will doesn’t pay for supplies. It doesn’t pay for much at all. I thought they were mercenary on Sakaar, but _this_ world!”

“If we need funds then I will speak to the Midgardians,” says Thor. “Or perhaps we might reach further afield? There are many in the Realms who owe Asgard a debt”

“Really?” asks Valkyrie. “You’re...well enough?”

Thor sighs. “I’ve let my people down in so many ways of late, but no longer. While I’m glad for the land we were granted, this place could be so much more.”

“It won’t be easy,” says Valkyrie. “With the realms in such chaos the universe is not short of refugees, but it _is_ short of aid.”

“Then they’ll just have to be persuaded,” says Loki.

He holds up his hands when Valkyrie glares at him. “ _Peacefully_ persuaded, if that’s what my Brother wishes. There’s much we have to offer them. More than fish, anyway. You’ve been playing at being Midgardians too long. You are Asgardians, and just because Asgard has fallen, it does not mean that your people should forget who they are.”

“Asgard has not fallen.” Thor says, softly.

Valkyrie flashes him her crooked smile. “It’s within us, right?”

“As long as we live.”

“And sometimes afterwards,” adds Loki, dryly.

This time Valkyrie’s smile includes him too. Only for a second, then her guard drops back down, but Thor sees it and feels hope.

* * *

From the window of Thor’s sleeping chamber under the eaves of the house, one can see the whole of New Asgard. Mossy slate roofs, winding, cobbled robes, the fields like swards of green velvet, shaken out and laid over the rise and fall of the coastline. A pleasant enough place, but _pleasant_ is not his birthright.

“It will be noble again,” Loki says. He stands behind Thor, his chin resting on Thor’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around Thor’s middle. A week ago he would have felt terribly self conscious to have Loki’s clasped hands resting on the soft rise of his belly, but now it feels comforting.

“Tell me what you see, my King.”

“The town. The harbor beyond it. The fishing boats.”

Loki kisses his ear. His breath makes Thor squirm, but Loki’s arms around him hold him still.

“Now tell me what you would _like_ to see. Tell me what your will is, My King, and I will make it real.”

His will right now is for Loki to kiss him again- or to take him to bed. He can hardly believe that what they did together this morning was real, and yet if Loki demands he act the King, how can he refuse?

“We might build out to sea,” he says. “Towers, like the ones we used to have, so that we may live in the air as well as on the ground, so that our magicians might speak to the winds and the birds and the skies here and learn their tongues. A Hall of Meetings, that our people can gather. Workshops that they might take up their old trades, and show Midgard what Asgard has to offer to them if they give us the chance. We must build a new fleet of starships that we can go beyond this world and bring aid to those who need it in the Nine Realms. Perhaps Stark might help? We must have statues to commemorate our fallen.” He frowns, remembering the Hall of Asgard. “Art...we must make art again. Tell our stories, so that those birthed on Midgardian soil will know the land they came from. We must respect this land, but we must not forget who we are. We’ll restore what was good, and discard what was bad, until New Asgard surpasses the old.”

“Good, My King,” Loki breathes in his ear. “It can be done, never doubt it. Never doubt yourself, for I never will.”

His hands move to Thor’s neck, undoing the clasp of his robes. Thor shivers as the heavy fabric slides off his shoulders, baring him.

“Now,” Loki says, stepping away. “What else would you like?”

Thor turns to face Loki. His cock is half-hard again, and Loki wraps his hand around it, smiling at Thor’s gasp.

“I wanted you like this earlier, when you sat next to me,” Loki says. “It pleased me to know how eager you were. You ought to have been naked as you are now, kneeling at my feet for all the world to see...but I suppose there are some things that not even New Asgard is ready for.”

“I’m glad to please you,” Thor manages. Loki’s hand moving gently between his legs- not to mention the thought of exposing himself as Loki’s plaything before Valkyrie- ties his tongue.

“Then please me, Brother. Kneel to me.”

It feels good to kneel to Loki. Right. He leans his face against his brother’s thigh for a moment, breathing in the good scent of leather. Loki’s hands crawl over his skull, stroking and soothing, his nails dragging lightly over Thor’s scalp so that he shivers and kisses the growing jut of Loki’s prick beneath the soft cloth of his britches.

“My good one,” Loki whispers. “My brave one. You need not be good for me, nor brave either. You may relax, forget your cares for a spell. Be selfish if you wish it.”

“Selfish?”

Loki traces the lobe of Thor’s ear. “Please me as you wish to please me. Find your own pleasure in doing so.”

“Really?”

Loki laughs. "You had your tongue inside me this morning. Your cock too. Your spend is still within me. It’s _spectacularly_ too late to be shy, Brother.”

And yet Thor is shy. It’s never been like this with him before. He’d like to plead that it’s the oddness of the situation which makes him feel so. That he’s never lain with another man before, let alone one he calls ‘Brother,’ and yet it isn’t that aspect of their coupling that ties his tongue and makes his cheeks flame red.

_It’s how much you want him._

He’s loved before, and passionately too, but never like this. Never with one he knows so intimately or has wanted on such a primal level for so very long. He’s used to being admired- of hopeful glances, and trembling confessions, but that _Loki_ should find him beautiful...he who is so critical of everything. 

Loki cocks his head to one side. “I’m waiting.”

And the thought of disappointing Loki is more powerful than the last shreds of his reserve. _Be selfish_. Perhaps there’s some wisdom in that?

Thor presses his face to Loki’s prick, kissing it through the thin fabric. He’s still hesitant as he looses the buttons of Loki’s britches, but his Brother makes no move to stop him. He merely continues to pet Thor’s head, tender and soothing. He feels his own cock swelling almost painfully as he frees Loki’s. It looks somehow vulnerable and strong at the same time, pale and curved and longer than he’d imagined. _And how will it taste? How will it be to have another man’s cock in your mouth? To have his cock in your mouth?_

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.

“You’ve had it done to you, though,” Loki says, softly. “How many maidens have knelt before you to worship that beautiful prick of yours?” He nudges the object in question with the toe of his boot, and Thor gasps. “You’ll learn, Brother.”

As it turns out, the most surprising thing is how natural it feels. Loki fills his mouth as though they were meant for each other. The scent of the curled black hair above Loki’s cock is maddening to him, and he swallows deeper, wanting only to lose himself in the heat and the scent of his body. Loki’s hands close around the back of his head more firmly now, and he’s rocking his hips to press himself more snugly into Thor’s mouth.

“Use your tongue- ah, yes that’s _perfect_.”

Thor’s jaw is beginning to ache and his chin is slippery and wet, and that excites him to. To be used like this. The King on his knees, pleasuring his wicked, beautiful brother. Loki’s breathing is faster, and Thor feels his cock twitch in his mouth, and then Loki’s hot spend is flooding him, and he swallows and swallows until Loki is done, and still his brother’s hands don’t release him. Even as his prick softens in Thor’s mouth he holds his head in place. And Thor is glad of it, licking and sucking gently, the way he likes it himself. He’s aware of his own need, but is removed from it somehow. It will wait. Pleasing his Master will only make his release-when and if it is allowed- the more pleasurable.

Finally, Loki releases his head, and pulls out of Thor’s mouth, then surprises him by kneeling himself so that they’re face to face. His kiss is tender and lingering and Thor pulls him close, almost roughly, his hands finding Loki’s buttocks and squeezing him close, not wanting any space between them.

Loki laughs. “Have a care, Thor. You’re stronger than I, you’ll crush me to splinters.”

“I don’t know about that,” Thor says. “You’re stronger than me in your own way. Or I’d not be submitting to you.”

Loki kisses him again. “You’re not doing this because I’ve defeated you somehow, or because you're weak.”

“No,” admits Thor. “I suppose that’s true.”

“If I was father I’d probably make some speech about yielding being its own victory.”

“Please, no talk of Father. And no speeches.”

“What do you want then?” asks Loki, raising an eyebrow. He jerks his hips against Thor’s. “I wish to see you spend, and since you’ve pleased me so well, you may pick how we do it.”

Thor groans. “Can’t you just tell me?”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I don’t intend to make this _too_ easy for you, Brother.” He pinches Thor’s nipple. “Remember, if you don’t ask, you’ll never receive. That’s one of father’s too.”

“Don't tease me, Loki.”

Loki plucks at his nipple harder. “It feels to me like you enjoy being teased. So what’s it to be, Brother? Do you wish to fuck me again? Should I use my mouth on you? Should I make you pleasure yourself for my amusement?”

“I...I don’t know.”

Loki nips at his neck. His breath is hot in Thor's ear. “You do know. You just don’t want to say it.”

Thor squeezes his eyes shut.

_If you don’t ask, you’ll never receive_.

“I want you to cover me. To take me, as a man takes a maiden.”

The heat he feels on his face tells him how furiously he must be blushing, but Loki’s teasing expression is gone in an instant. 

“Truly?”

“Aye, truly. If...if you want to, I mean.”

Loki shakes his head. “Oh Brother, you’ve no _idea_ how much I want it. With one proviso- if you wish to stop at any point you’ll tell me honestly. It may feel different to the way you imagine, and I'd not hurt you. Well, not harm you, at least. Understand?”

“Yes. Yes, _Master_.”

Loki nods, then grins. “Good pet. Now how do I want you?”

* * *

The stone of the windowsill is cool under Thor’s forearms. His breath mists the glass. Anyone looking up here will see his face-no more than that- but the knowledge that he can be seen at all while this is happening to him leaves him hopelessly, helplessly aroused. He stands just as Loki positioned him, bent double with his arms resting on the stone ledge, and his legs spread wide. Loki’s hands spread him wider still, leaving the knot of his hole utterly defenseless to the tongue that circles and flickers over the sensitive flesh. His cock and his balls feel like they’re bound up with some enchanted wire of flame, pulsing, flickering, pulling the knot of desire in his loins tighter and tighter until he can barely stand it, but his orgasm remains just out of reach, and he’d wait for it anyway.

_I want to spend with him inside me. My brother. My Master_.

Loki’s thumb presses against his hole, testing, teasing.

“My, how eager you are, Thor. Have you truly never been taken this way?”

“Never,” Thor gasps.

“Yet you’re already opening for me so prettily. You must want it so badly.”

Thor swears as Loki’s hand closes around his cock. “And how your prick drools for me. Can you hear it, how your body begs for me?”

The wet, slick noises as Loki’s hand works his prick make Thor cry out. He wants it to be this way now; The more degrading, the better. In this space he’s free. He need not be strong- Loki will be strong for the two of them, and the weaker he is, the more he will please his master.

When Loki’s fingers squirm inside him, he moans not from pain but frustration.

_More. Just fuck me, Brother._

But the third finger burns a little and he feels himself clench tighter around Loki’s fingers.

“Relax, dear one,” Loki breathes. "Your body needs time to catch up to your will. There's no need to rush things." His tone is so sincere and his touch so deft that Thor does relax, the burn fading until all is pleasure once more.

“How warm you are, how tightly you hold me within you,” Loki says, beginning to work his fingers deeper. “Like you were made for me. That’s how it will feel when I mount you. You need not fear me, Brother. There will be no pain, only love.”

His fingers curl and caress, awakening paths of pleasure that Thor had no idea he possessed. He feels as though he were a marvelous instrument and that Loki is playing him like a virtuoso; A dumb object without the touch of his Master, but with Loki strumming the strings of his nerve endings his whole body sings.

“I’d say you’re about ready,” Loki says at last. Thor can manage no words. His body streams sweat and his cock throbs miserably with need.

His hand withdraws and Thor hears the whisper of Loki’s clothing.

“I’m going to use a spell to ready you to take me,” Loki says.

Thor reads the question hidden in the sentence and nods his assent.

When Loki whispers his spell Thor feels it begin to work on him at once. The warm, pleasurable feeling within him grows, the flesh of his ring seems to swell and throb, a physical inflammation to match the passion in his heart. The slickness that spills from his cock is matched by a new slickness inside him that puts him in mind of the women he’s lain with, when his caresses have made them open to him, sexes swollen to ripeness, wet and sweet and ready. A powerful feeling to be able to do that to another, and equally powerful to have it done to him. To have Loki turn that shy little knot of his into a quim, open and tender and begging so openly to be used.

Loki’s hands slide around his hips, gentle, but firm, and then the head of his cock nudges against Thor’s helplessly over sensitised ring. He wants to push himself back against it, but Loki holds him in place.

“Hold, Brother. I’ll take my time with you.”

He presses against Thor a little harder, but still not hard enough to enter him, just enough to tantalise.

“Do you know why I decided to take you here, in front of the glass?”

Thor shakes his head, desperately.

“Two reasons, My King. The first is so that you can look out on your Kingdom. See all that you rule even as you submit your body to my pleasure. To remind you that while you are a King, you will always be my slave, and vice versa. The second is so that I can see you. Your handsome face is reflected in the glass of the window, and Brother, I can’t _wait_ to see the look upon it as I fuck you.”

With that he pushes into Thor, with a long, slow thrust that makes Thor dig his fingers into the stonework of the windowsill so hard that it fractures and crumbles.

_Norns, was there ever pleasure like this?_

And he realises that he can see Loki too. In fact his brother favors him with one of his wickedest grins as they catch each other’s eyes in the glass.

_Oh Loki, how long I’ve needed this, and never known it._

And it’s just as Loki says- he’s never been taken like this before, never had anything inside him, and yet it feels as though they are made for each other, two sundered halves fitting back together. Loki’s gentle at first, but when Thor bucks his hips more desperately his Brother obliges, picking up his pace, his fingers digging harder into the soft flesh of Thor’s thighs as he fucks Thor deeper and harder. Thor is aware he’s crying out, but he cares not if anyone should glance up at the window and see him. All he cares about is Loki. Outside thunder growls, and he can feel the lightning kindling in his belly.

“Spend as you will, my King,” Loki says, and Thor can hold back no longer. His untouched cock spasms as his pleasure over takes him, and still Loki doesn’t relent, holding Thor up, slamming himself deeper still, until Thor feels his cock twitch, and his nails dig in deep enough to break skin, and he knows that Loki is spilling his own seed inside of him.

* * *

It’s a jumble of tired legs and aching arms, but the two of them fit in the tub together more or less. Loki lies atop Thor, with his head snugged into the crook of Thor’s neck. 

“How do you feel, pet?”

“I feel...new.” Thor says. “Newly born.”

Loki laughs. “I mean your body.”

“So do I.”

Loki squirms around to look up at him, wearing the half smile, half frown that Thor knows so well.

“It was as you hoped?”

“It was more than I could have imagined, Brother.”

Loki stretches up to kiss him. “I’m glad of it. You never look nobler than when you submit yourself to me. If only they all knew it- those who come to worship you. But that part I’d keep for myself.”

“Do you really think we can do it?” Thor asks. “Rebuild Asgard?”

Loki shrugs. The slide of their skin together, warm and slippery has Thor hard again, but that will wait. He needs to know that Loki truly means it.

“Of course we can. It will take time, and be tortuously boring if we do it peaceably, as you wish to, but we _can_ do it.”

“But we have so little.”

“You have me, and I have you, and that’s really all that matters. And besides,” he kisses Thor again, a loving, gentle kiss.

“We rebuilt a _God_ , you and I. The Mighty Thor, no less. How hard can a city be?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Top Thor was a tricky dynamic for me to write, and I think I'm tapped out at this point, as fun as this was. Getting covid halfway through writing it didn't help my momentum! I might write a second part to this eventually, but for now I'm happy with where it finished. Hope you enjoyed it, and thank you as always for reading.  
> There's more Thorki goodness, including my fanart available on my Twitter https://twitter.com/BawdryW

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my fan art and updates on my fics on Twitter @BawdryW  
> Thanks for reading!


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